Gold Lion
by AllNightOperator
Summary: Ed's pretty stubborn about Roy Mustang.  Roy/Ed, slash


**Gold Lion **

(Ed's pretty stubborn about Roy Mustang)

**Twelve**

He wondered where Al was. And his lunch.

Fidgeting at the study table, Ed pushed the book he was reading away from him and looked around the library curiously. He didn't hear Al's tread but that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't there. Al could be quite sneaky. But then, he didn't smell food, either. Ed sighed in disappointment.

It had been a long few months since he'd gotten his Certification. His stupid commanding officer had sent him and Al on several useless missions so far and they had all in some way ended up benefitting the State and by connection, the Colonel himself. Ed didn't know why he'd ever thought Roy Mustang would be helpful. He was a selfish, power-hungry bastard.

His team was all right though. They'd taken him and Al out to eat a few times (even though Al couldn't) and that had been kind of them. Hughes had shown up, too, and he was really nice. He was always trying to get Ed and Al to come stay in his house but Ed and Al both felt it was better if they stayed in the dorms. Maybe for Al's birthday - if they were still in Central and not on another dumb, time-wasting inspection - they could stay with Hughes and Gracia. And the baby. Al loved Elysia.

Ed smiled, before frowning again at the book slightly ahead of him. The Colonel had assigned him some stupid research assignment and reminded him to report in all of his findings. Why couldn't he do his own stupid work? What did he _do_ all day? Sleep on his paperwork when he wasn't being fawned over by the secretarial staff? He was insufferable. Ed hated him.

"Brother?"

"Hey, Al," said Ed, all dark thoughts leaving his head at the sound of his brother's voice. "What've you got?"

"Noodles with chicken and some pie as dessert!" Al sounded like he was smiling and Ed grinned back. He took the food and stood up.

"Guess we can't eat in here," said Al and Ed shook his head no.

"Let's go sit by the river," he suggested and Al shuffled happily.

"Yeah, it's a nice day out, you know. Not too windy from what I could see."

Ed nodded to the librarian, who would watch his and Al's research books for them, picked up their journals and followed Al out. The wind whipped his bangs around his face. Ed vowed that one day Al would be able to feel that wind for himself.

**Thirteen**

Not only were they stuck in some backwoods town, Ed had to deal with the Lieutenant who was overseeing the place. He was worse than that military guy from Youswell. He recalled some of the stories that the townspeople had told him and felt a surge of disgust.

"Al, why am I in the military?"

"So we can get the research and funding we need to restore our bodies," answered Al promptly. He was stretched out next to Ed on the hard earth, both of them staring at the sky. The stars weren't as prominent as they were in Risembool but a few dotted the expanse of blue. Ed vaguely wondered what Winry was up to.

"It's full of corruption and murderers." And lechers, if what the townspeople had said was true. Ed shivered to himself.

"Not everyone's bad. Lieutenant Hughes is really nice. And so are Lieutenants Hawkeye and Havoc and Breda and Sergeant Fuery."

"They're not that great," said Ed, remembering how Havoc and Breda had teased him when he'd come to the office to collect this assignment. "Well, Hughes is all right. And so is Hawkeye."

"You're just scared of her."

Rather than try to lie to Al, Ed exclaimed, "So're you, Al!"

"I respect her, brother. There's a difference."

"Oh, shut up."

"Colonel Mustang is nice, too."

"What! Are you serious, Al?"

"Yes!" said Al defensively under Ed's glare. "He's nice to me, anyway! He probably teases you so much because you get so riled up -"

"I do _not _get riled up!"

"He just knows what buttons of yours to push!"

"_Who's_ smaller than a button!"

"Brother! I didn't say anything about your height!"

"He's annoying! And right now, so are you! I can't believe you like him!"

"He helped us," said Al in a wounded voice. "And I'm not annoying."

"He has his own agenda, whatever it is. Remember when Havoc said that?"

"He didn't say it like that," pointed out Al. "He said he wasn't just all about getting a promotion."

"Yeah! What about that, anyway? What's he all about, then? Huh?"

Al sighed. "What?" said Ed dangerously. "What is it?"

"Nothing, brother…"

"Al! Tell me."

"No, it's not important. If we're not going to sleep, how about we write a letter to Win -"

"It's not fair to hide things from me, Al!"

"It really was nothing, brother. I just forget how you get when someone brings up the Colonel. It's - I still don't really get why you hate him. He kind of reminds me of you."

Ed made an infuriated, confused noise and turned over. He heard Al sigh again.

**Fourteen**

No, it was out there somewhere. It had to be. If Al's body could be taken in equal exchange then there must be something equivalent that he could use to grab back Al's body and Ed was going to find it.

This pep talk was something Ed repeated to himself every time he got into the shower or washed his face in the morning. He usually could convince himself to believe it. Al handled the other times.

Ed was walking along one of Central's main avenues, on leave for once and at a loss of what to do. He was walking back toward the National Library because that was the only thing to do when time off was forced onto him. They couldn't keep him out of the Library, after all.

He knocked absently at the glass walls of the stores as he strolled, his other hand clenched around the pocket-watch. Al never asked to see the watch but instead always asked Ed what the time was. Now that Ed thought about it, he wondered if Al had indeed seen the inside of the watch and was just shy in asking Ed about it.

He stopped and tapped his foot, considering, looking down at the pavement. Nah. He and Al were too close for that sort of thing; he would ask. What about asking Al if he hated him? Ed flinched to himself. That wasn't the same. It was different because the genuine answer might be too horrible to hear. But this? Al would definitely ask about it; he would be concerned and when he was worried about Ed nothing stopped him.

Shaking his head, Ed continued onwards. It wasn't a big deal, he'd inscribed the watch so he wouldn't get complacent. This was for Al, after all, and he always had to remember that.

Some kind of movement made him turn his head towards a shop and he was surprised to see through the window the Colonel in some sort of suit fitting. Ed cocked his head and paused a moment to take in his commanding officer in civilian clothes. He'd never seen Mustang outside of the uniform.

He could see now that dark colors suited him and Ed wondered, not for the first time, what he himself would look like in the uniform. He wore black because it was easy to hide stains in and he liked the red coat. But the uniform…? He looked at his reflection and saw bright yellow hair and eyes. Only above his neck stood out, the rest of his clothes blended into the gloom. He would probably look stupid in the uniform. He wasn't even as tall as Fuery. Not yet, anyway.

Mustang was standing with his arms out, back to Ed, and a tailor was measuring him around his waist and his hips. Ed frowned a little at how close the tailor had to measure; Ed would be embarrassed if it were him. But the Colonel was shameless.

He looked at Mustang objectively. In the suit, he didn't look like a Colonel or anyone especially remarkable. He wasn't as tall as Hughes or Havoc were but he was more muscled than Ed would have thought. He'd only seen Mustang in action once, when he had taken down Bald and Ed had just assumed the desk job would have led to a lack of body tone or definition.

But Ed didn't see any. Mustang was in good shape. The suit showed it off; it had a closer fit to his body than the boxy military uniform. Mustang shrugged out of the blazer, the white dress shirt clinging to his torso, which tapered down to his square-boned hips and long legs. Ed frowned again, feeling his face heat up.

His dark, glossy hair gleamed in the murky light of the shop, even from this distance. He wasn't a bad looking guy at all, he thought distantly. Surprised, Ed watched Mustang fidget as he conversed with the tailor, who was taking notes. He wondered what the Colonel needed a suit for.

Probably a date.

Ed scowled and turned from the shop window, and walked to the library. He did like how the suit had looked, though. Maybe he would get one too.

**Fifteen**

He couldn't believe they were on a train going back to Risembool. His mind was buzzing.

Armstrong was sitting next to him but the rest of the booth was empty since the Major had sent Al to the storage cabin like some kind of animal. Ed bristled. These military types were really pissing him off. He felt impatient; he really wanted to get to Marcoh's notes but he couldn't because the scarred man decided to take out his anger about Ishbal on him and Al.

The scarred man was definitely not justified in what he'd been doing but Ed couldn't stop going over what Marcoh had said about Ishbal. Especially what happened with Mustang and Winry's parents.

Ed didn't want to think about it too hard but without Al there distracting his thoughts to more pleasant things he couldn't stop it. Mustang had killed Winry's parents, people Ed now only vaguely remembered. But he could never forget how upset Winry had been.

He couldn't say he liked his commanding officer any more than he had when he was a kid. Mustang was a complete jerk. He teased Ed totally inappropriately, he kept things from Ed that he had no right to - like the whole thing about Dr. Marcoh's whereabouts. Did it really take losing a battle assessment for the man to cough up information? That was pathetic. He was pathetic.

And yet. Ed couldn't help but have a small part of him that felt sorry for the Colonel. He knew what it was to make a terrible mistake and Marcoh had been clear that Mustang had been sad about what happened. More than sad; he'd even tried to end his own life. Ed was uncomfortable that Marcoh had told them that; it bothered him knowing that the Mustang who loved to boss him around and thought he was so great had tried to commit suicide.

It was possible that it was all a front: the playboy reputation, the teasing, the manic behavior. He couldn't forget the hesitation the Colonel showed at the end of their battle assessment or the sadness in his voice when he had brought up Ishbal.

He really didn't know anything about the Colonel. He still wasn't sure if Mustang was trustworthy or even cared about him or Al. He now knew that the Colonel was sensitive, but he didn't understand why Mustang teased him all of the time. He had no right to. Ed could take teasing, but he wasn't going to take it from someone that he didn't even like and wasn't sure cared about him.

Ed shook his head angrily and stared out of the window. He didn't have time to try to figure out his superior officer. He didn't trust Mustang and he didn't have the inclination to think otherwise. Why the hell should he? How was Mustang in any way better than Gran? He'd used the incomplete Stone in the war too and he never told Ed about that.

Maybe it was out of shame, though. Ed could understand that, but it was just an assumption he was making.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. All he knew was that he couldn't trust anyone in the military. It wasn't safe anymore. He wouldn't put restoring Al at risk just to understand someone who wasn't even nice to him.

"Spacious," he muttered, feeling the push of Armstrong's muscles against his arm. Ed glanced to the empty seat across him. He wanted Al.

**Sixteen**

He watched Al go off with the old bastard and was left alone with the other bastard. Fucking great. Like he didn't have enough to worry about, he had to deal with the Colonel, who never told anything of merit to Ed, then acting all affronted when Ed didn't go running to him for help.

Ed turned from the doorway and moved to go inside when a hand caught out, brushing his sleeve. Ed jumped a little. "Wait," Mustang said, standing from his seat.

"What do you want now?" It was late, Ed was annoyed, and he didn't have the time for a chat.

"Hold it." Ed turned to look at Mustang, saw there were a million questions brimming behind his dark eyes. Good. Let him know what it felt like for once. "I just wanted to know. When was the first time you heard of these homunculi?"

Ed paused, narrowing his eyes at Mustang, then in thought. There wasn't any point in lying to Mustang now. That Mustang was still here showed he probably wouldn't sell out Ed or Al. "When Lab 5 was destroyed," he answered. "Thought you'd know that much, at least."

"I read reports on the lab but wanted your confirmation. Thank you," added in almost an afterthought.

"Whatever. Can I go now?"

"No."

"No? What else can I do for you, _sir_?"

Mustang's eyes flashed before he repeated his question from earlier. "Why didn't you come to me?"

Ed didn't say anything, just eyed his commanding officer.

"That's not an answer, Edward. Why didn't you trust me?"

"Like you've given me a reason to!" Ed exploded, throwing his arms out. Mustang looked as if he'd been smacked. "Marcoh and - and someone else told me all of it, about Ishbal and the military's involvement. I've known for a while."

"I - thought he might have."

"Whatever," said Ed gruffly, still taken aback. "I didn't need you to tell me."

"I didn't think it was relevant. The Red Stones. I thought Marcoh ended the research -"

"It's fine, Mustang, I don't want to hear your excuses again. I don't care. I knew it all anyway, I didn't think you would keep that information from me but you did. Are we done?"

Mustang bristled slightly but calmed himself. "I didn't keep what happened in the war from you to make your life more difficult," he said slowly. "It was partly from…I didn't want to admit what happened. What we did."

"Fine! You should be ashamed!" Ed snapped, then closed his mouth. He shouldn't have said that. He was just angry that Al was with that old bastard instead of him, that his brother was with the man who abandoned him and Al to their current predicaments. He wasn't even really angry anymore with Mustang; keeping Ishbal from Ed was the same as when he'd kept Liore from him. He had his reasons, whatever they were, and Ed got it. He didn't like it and he didn't understand it, but that was how Mustang worked.

Mustang's eyes widened as he opened his mouth to say something but Ed interrupted him. "I'm sorry," said Ed, flushing but he still couldn't keep the bite out of his words. "I didn't mean that."

Mustang said quietly, "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have kept those things from you. It did more harm than good." Ed was reminded of their clean up after the battle assessment - that same quiet acceptance.

Brushing by Ed, entering the house, Mustang softly said, "Goodnight, Ed."

"Wait."

Mustang turned around, his expression calm but his eyes still held that hunted look Ed had seen earlier in the day. "Look," said Ed finally, turning to face the Colonel. "We didn't think to go to anyone for help. Me and Al, that's how we operate. That's why we didn't come to you. We didn't think to."

"Then, think to. Next time," Mustang said quietly.

Ed didn't plan on it, but he nodded anyway, just to get that look off of the Colonel's face. It was bothering him more than he wanted to think about. "All right. 'Night, Colonel."

Ed held a hand up goodbye as he stalked away, making his way to the room he was supposed to be sharing with his brother. He felt guilty but he had no time to waste thinking about Mustang. He wondered if he should go find Al. What if the old bastard realized Al had a Stone with him? But Al made his choice. He eyed the closed door of the spare bedroom, then the empty bed next to his own, as he worked out his braid irritatedly.

Closing his eyes, he lay back but he couldn't keep the images of Mustang out of his head. He didn't understand the Colonel all that much more, but he was starting to see that maybe he wasn't that bad. Maybe he even had good intentions. Ed lay back and rubbed his eyes. There were more important things he needed to think about - needed to take care of, that no one else could or would.

He needed sleep and he didn't have time for Mustang...

**Seventeen**

Al would probably like the idea of rockets. This would be going so much easier if he had his brother with him - and he would, Ed would find a way back to Al and he would tell Al what he learned and maybe their next project together could be something similar.

Al was fine, he must be fine, don't think about it too much, you saw him restored didn't you? _Did _he...? _Stop_, focus on the drawings ahead of you or it will take even longer to get home to see him. And maybe other people, too, the people who must be taking care of Al would be happy to see you too, Ed.

That voice sounded like Winry's. Ed scrubbed his eyes. It was easier to think about her than Al; he knew she'd be doing everything to make sure Al was doing well. He could always count on Winry even if he tried not to involve her in things.

"Edward, are you all right?" Alfons asked, stopping his writing for a moment. Ed managed a brief smile.

"Yeah. My head's just spinning."

"Do you want me to make you some tea?" Alfons made tea just like mom had...

"N-No, you don't have to -"

"I wanted some anyway," said Alfons with his familiar smile, one Ed hadn't seen in over a decade.

"Thanks."

That night, he and Alfons ended up getting drunk, slurring over their notes and spilling sticky amber liquid on the table. "What's this stuff called?" asked Ed, holding up his glass unsteadily. He was pretty good at holding his liquor, considering his size. That sounded suspiciously like the bastard Colonel. Who's a pipsqueak?

Alfons interrupted the fight going on in Ed's mind. "It's lager. You've really never had alcohol before, Edward?"

"It's Ed. And no, where I came from, there just - I didn't have any."

"The place didn't have any?"

"No, it did." Ed remembered the two holiday parties at Headquarters that he and Al had managed to make it to, Mustang's drunken laugh so free and loud, the click of Hughes' camera snapping away. "I just didn't have any."

"Was this America?"

"No, farther than that." And Ed wanted desperately to tell someone - anyone where he was from but he bit his tongue. He wouldn't talk about it like this, with his tongue unstuck with alcohol because he was bound to say a number of crazy things, about conspiring inhuman monsters, the corrupt government, or his deep loneliness even while having his father here. Or how he'd give his other arm to just see his brother again.

He didn't realize he'd said that out loud anyway until he heard Alfons' sympathizing noise. "Your brother, is he all right? You can see him soon, can't you?"

Glancing at Alfons, Ed saw how earnest the expression was on his friend's face, even if Alfons' eyes were a little glazed from drink. "I'm sure he misses you too," continued Alfons. "I'm sure you're a great brother."

Ed took a deep breath, and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm not sure where all that came from."

"Don't apologize. Sometimes I used to wonder where the sadness in your eyes came from. Now I think I understand. Do you have a picture of your brother? That might make you feel better."

"I don't." Ed glanced at Alfons' face. "But I haven't forgotten what he's looked like."

Alfons didn't push about where Ed's brother was or why he wasn't with Ed. "Come on, I'll make up a bed for you."

"N-No, I'll call Hohen - I mean, my father. He can pick me up."

"It's no problem," said Alfons with a smile. "Sometimes this apartment gets a little lonely. I think I need a roommate."

Ed settled into the spare room, moving over a newspaper that was carelessly placed on the duvet of the bed. Before he chucked it over the side of the bed, Ed's eyes caught a figure. He blinked several times and cocked his head. Mustang…? A smiling, carefree face on the paper, dark hair dressed in dark blue. He blearily tried to read the words, but he was too tired to properly understand the German.

He dreamt that he was back in the office and Mustang was sitting behind his desk, toying with his military medals. He was not wearing his uniform but the suit he'd had on when Ed had seen him in the shop all those years ago. Or was it the suit from when they'd met in the car…?

"How's it going, Fullmetal? Do you miss me?"

Ed frowned. Mustang had been calling him 'Ed' more and more, if Ed remembered right. "Of course not," he lied with a smirk. "In fact, that's one of the few good things about this place. Not seeing you."

"Hm, how odd, that's one of the bad things about this place. Although I've probably just misplaced you among the paperclips and staples."

"_Very_ _funny_. You just wait, if I see you again -"

"When, Fullmetal." Mustang's voice, jovial a second before, became deadly serious. "When you next see me."

"When I see you..." began Ed slowly, clasping a fist, "I'm gonna punch you one like I always wanted to."

"I'm all yours if you can reach me."

Ed lunged for him but Mustang spun in his chair, presenting its black back to Ed's face.

When he woke up, the first thing Ed did was check the paper. He saw a dark-haired man dressed in blue, smiling like he was the happiest man on this world. Ed closed his eyes and thought of the General, of what he could remember the man looking like. The dark, beautifully shaped eyes, the smirking lips, the dark glossy hair. He looked at the paper again. It wasn't a picture of Mustang. It didn't even really look like him.

He didn't know where that had come from, either.

**Eighteen**

"The General," said Ed as he set down the chalk. "What happened to him? That _was_ an eyepatch, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. He was shot by Archer in the head and he lost an eye," replied Al in a hushed voice.

Ed gaped. Archer…? When had that happened?

Al quickly added, "I saw the General after it happened and he seemed okay with it. He even said it helped with the trial and everything."

"Must have made him look like a victim," mused Ed, frowning, rubbing chalk dust between his automail fingertips. "So did Archer get blamed for the death of Bradley?"

"I think so, brother," said Al. "The General certainly didn't. He was stationed in the North when I left with you so he hadn't been discharged or anything."

"But he was in Central."

"I think he wanted to see you."

"What? How could he have known I was - ? How did _you _know?"

"I just had a feeling," said Al simply. "I remember when I met him after...after. He was the only one that seemed - he didn't try to discourage me about you being alive. I just knew that you were and I think he felt it too."

Ed remembered Mustang's eerily perceptive abilities when it concerned him, like how he seemed to know where Ed would usually go or what decisions Ed would make. Youswell, the eastern trek to Risembool...Maybe it wasn't Mustang's spies that had told him. Did Mustang just have a feeling towards Ed in particular, like Al seemed to?

Ed put that dangerous, ridiculously unscientific thought out of his mind. He eventually said, "That's...unexpected." Then, surprised that he was saying it, "I hope he achieved his goal."

Al cut a look at Ed as he settled next to Ed on the floor, the chalked array spread in front of them. "Me too, brother. That's pretty nice of you though."

Ed shook his head. He'd had a lot of time to think about the General over the past few years. "Well, he wasn't so bad. We probably could have gotten along better if he didn't act like such a bastard all of the time."

"Well, when we go back you can tell him that." Al grinned at him.

"Hah. I dunno about that, Al." Ed wiped his hands and gestured to the array. "I think it looks all right. What d'you think?"

Al squinted at it and turned his bright grin towards Ed. "We'll need that catalyst, of course," he said, "but it looks great, brother."

"I hope the trip through the Gate doesn't damage Frieda," added Al. "I'd miss her."

"I'll get you a new motorbike if it does," replied Ed, rolling his eyes. "Eventually. When we have money again, that is."

"I'm sure Winry'll have something." Al huffed a happy sigh. He was really excited to see Winry again. So was Ed, but not for the same reason. Ed just hoped that Winry was still available. Al hadn't said anything in particular but Ed noticed the excited gleam in his brother's grey eyes.

"I still think a car would have been okay."

"A car's too big. And I'm better at driving a motorbike." Al held up a hand to forestall Ed's retort. "Brother, I love you but you are a terrible driver."

Ed turned red. He sputtered but in the end, he couldn't argue. Al laughed and said, "You know who else was a bad driver? General Mustang."

He couldn't help the curl of affection that that inspired in him but Ed still scoffed. Al's face, with a raised eyebrow and comically pursed lips, told him that Ed wasn't fooling him.

**Nineteen**

A box dropped squarely onto Ed's book. Ed jumped, then angrily turned around. Roy smirked at him. "Hungry, Fullmetal?"

"One, don't call me that. And two, what the fuck are you doing, dropped things on my books? And scaring me? You want to get me kicked out of the library?"

"If it means you'll actually leave this place and come back to mine, then yes." Roy cocked his head. "You're here as much as you were when you were a teenager."

"Still am, pervert."

Roy theatrically shuddered. "Don't remind me." He walked around Ed's table and gracefully let himself into a seat. Ed narrowed his eyes at how none of Roy's movements seemed awkward.

Ed sniffed around the box. "Is this noodles with -"

"Chicken. And I have pie at my house."

Ed propped his head up on a hand and asked in a bored tone, "Do you have anything else for dessert?" He grinned and Roy raised his only brow.

"That depends. If you take this, then you can have whatever I have, any time." Roy reached into his uniform jacket pocket and tossed something at Ed. Catching it easily, Ed saw that they were keys. He transferred them to his real hand, feeling the warmth of being close to Roy's body even through the gloves.

"That's your copy. You can bring your research there if you like."

After lunch and two desserts, Ed lay next to Roy on Roy's huge bed, his breath evening out. "Hope you're not planning on using the study any time soon," Ed murmured, running a hand over Roy's arm, feeling the fine hairs stand on end.

Roy snuffled against Ed's neck, pressing what felt like a kiss. "Only to distract you, I'm sure."

Ed sighed, feeling boneless and affectionate. "Bastard."

**Twenty **

"I've been in love with you for...a long time. Years."

"Well," Ed said. "I didn't always hate you, either."


End file.
